Abstract
This study builds on a set of Australian case studies exploring the impact of Place on the work of principals and of the importance of Place in the preparation and development of principals. The project compares the ways that principals in Iceland and Australia build leadership capacity in small rural schools. Leaders of small schools in both settings face challenges because of their remoteness, such as lack of access to professional learning opportunities, professional isolation and teaching roles in addition to leadership and administrative responsibilities. Qualitative data from interviews and observations were used to construct narrative accounts of salient aspects of the principal’s work. It was evident that these schools were good schools, hardly noticed and rarely visited by their respective educational authority personnel. Their principals accommodate the changes they face, accepting the conditions they find. These schools are characterised by a culture of acceptance, where expectations for performance and behaviour are known and shared and not questioned. But is this enough? Could they be great schools or even simply better schools? In what ways? At what cost? How might these schools become great schools if principals were to develop a culture of inquiry?
This study builds on a set of Australian case studies (Clarke et al., 2006, 2007; Wildy, 2004; Wildy and Clarke, 2008a, 2011) exploring the challenges facing the principal of the small rural school. Research through the International Study of Preparation of Principals (ISPP) (www.ucalgary.ca/ispp/) explored the impact of Place on the work of principals and of the importance of Place in the preparation and development of principals (Clarke and Wildy, 2010; Wildy and Clarke, 2008b). Most recently, studies of small rural schools revealed what the authors referred to as a culture of acceptance, which is contrasted to a culture of inquiry (for example, Wildy and Clarke, 2012).
This research program focusing on the small rural school was extended in 2012 to include a pilot study in Iceland, a country that shares relevant geographic features with Australia. First, Iceland and Australia are characterised by low density (three persons per km2), geographic and climatic extremes, and large numbers of small schools. Second, urbanisation is a feature of both countries, leading to the closure and amalgamation of rural schools. Third, the relationship between schools and their administering authorities in each context is changing, with consequences for the expectations of principals (Sigñórsson, 1995; Wildy and Louden, 2000) and concerns about differences in students outcomes across rural-urban settings (Panizzon and Pegg, 2007). However, there are differences between the two contexts in terms of the school as social institution, and this study aims to investigate this cultural aspect of the contexts. For example, in Iceland major elementary school reforms in the late 1960s and 1970s challenged long-established views of education that were deeply rooted in rural culture, practices and pedagogies influenced by story-telling, the medieval Icelandic Sagas and religion (Jóhannesson, 2001). Full-time, formal elementary education in Iceland is a relatively recent phenomenon, often begrudgingly accepted in rural areas where high levels of literacy were already commonplace. In contrast, although the Western influence in Australia stretches fewer than 250 years, throughout that time the British tradition of local schooling as a formal institution has been a central feature of the cultural landscape.
The work of the principal of a small rural school is worthy of study for a number of reasons. In Iceland around one-third of schools can be classified as ‘fámennir skólar’ or schools with fewer than 120 students. In Australia approximately one-quarter of all schools are classified as small, some with fewer than 10 students, and these are situated in regional, rural and remote locations. Australian principals typically begin their principalship in such schools; until 2012 no formal preparation postgraduate degree courses were available in Western Australia. Principals in Iceland are not required to have had principal preparation when they take on the job nor are they required to participate in principal programs after their appointment. However, although it is becoming common for principals to take postgraduate courses in school management, principals typically start their principalship in the small and remote schools without any such education. Furthermore, in both settings, novice principals are also teaching principals, dividing their time between the classroom and the office. Due to low enrolments, small schools do not qualify for administrative support in the same way that larger schools do, and yet the principal is required to demonstrate equal compliance to centrally mandated policies. Compounding these challenges are high public visibility, professional isolation and personal loneliness, and high expectations for students’ performance. In the face of declining school populations, calls for reorganisation are continuously and often contentiously in the spotlight. With such a legacy, principals are also required to develop staff capacity as leaders. Our study seeks to understand how principals address this challenge.
Research background
A key concept for our study is ‘culture’, which is defined as the system of shared beliefs, values, customs, behaviours and artifacts that the members of society use to cope with their world and with one another, and that are transmitted from generation to generation through learning (Bates and Plog, 1990: 7). Relevant to our discussion are the shared, learned nature of culture, and that the beliefs and practices of a group help its members in their day-to-day lives. Culture, although implicit and rarely noticed from within, is pervasive and powerful and shapes that way of life.
Research literature indicates that some school cultural features are more conducive to fostering student learning outcomes than others. For example, as Senge (1990/2006) has long advocated, when schools are configured as professional learning organisations in which staff and students alike adopt a focus on learning, learning outcomes are enhanced. Further, Senge and others such as Harris (2008), Harris and Lambert (2003) and Leithwood et al. (2008, 2010) argue that leadership in such professional learning organisations is best when shared among staff rather than confined to the principalship. The premise here is that alignment of all elements of the school as an organisation around learning will drive up the learning outcomes. In recent years, many have advocated the same idea (for example, Bolam et al., 2006; Hall and Hord, 2011; Roy and Hord, 2006). If the school is to be a professional learning organisation in which leadership is shared or distributed (Harris, 2008), then the question to be addressed is: how is leadership capacity developed in schools? Newmann and King have engaged their research teams in the study of building school capacity (King and Newmann, 2004; Newmann et al., 2000). Specifically, they have researched the part principals play in that process (Leithwood et al., 2010).
We have long known, through the early school effectiveness literature of the 1980s and 1990s, that leadership is a key ingredient of high-performing schools. Recent work has extended this to show a systemic reciprocal relationship between leadership and school improvement (Hallinger and Heck, 2010; Louis et al., 2010). The focus of this later research has been on the layered nature of leadership. Not only is leadership most influential when it is collaborative but it is also powerful when working on different layers and aspects within the school structure (Hallinger and Heck, 2010).
Building leadership capacity means increasing the leadership abilities of the different members of the school as well as the school as a whole (Harris and Lambert, 2003; Lambert, 2003). Members of the school include staff, students, parents and the wider community. When the school community has leadership capacity they share a common vision for the school; they hold common values and beliefs about the school and schooling; and they agree to implement a set of strategies that they agree will lead them to achieving their vision. Furthermore, members use evidence such as student assessment data, attendance figures, enrolment patterns, attitude surveys and other relevant data to make decisions. Using such data, they review their own and others’ practices and develop strategies for improving student learning outcomes. In settings that demonstrate richly developed leadership capacity, members adopt behaviours that reflect engagement, teamwork and collective responsibility. These characteristics of professional learning communities (Bolam et al., 2006; Harris, 2008; Lambert, 2006; Roy and Hord, 2006; Siguräardóttir and Sigñórsson, 2012) do not happen without strong and explicit leadership from the principal.
However, setting up the conditions and processes of professional learning communities takes skill. Trusting, respectful relationships among participants are the basic starting point, without which collaborative activity is unlikely to be effective (Hargreaves, 2007). Positive, supportive relationships among groups and individuals in the school community are necessary for people to feel safe to talk about their teaching and its implications for students’ learning (Harris and Lambert, 2003) as well as to talk about their own learning (Lambert, 2003). The principal has the responsibility of deciding whether or not the school community is to develop as a professional learning community (Leithwood et al., 2010; Louis et al., 2010). Moreover, the principal is the one whose actions will build high leadership capacity or not. It is the work of the principal to build a culture of trusting and respectful relationships, a commonly agreed vision for the school, structures and processes for shared decision making and deep ownership of the students’ learning outcomes. When the school can claim to be a functioning professional learning community, there is capacity within the school to continue to perform at a high level when the principal or other key players move on (Lambert, 2003, 2006).
The skills and knowledge required by the principal in such circumstances are now well known (Lambert, 2006; Leithwood et al., 2008; Louis et al., 2010). For example, the principal who leads a professional learning community is clear about her own values and vision, believes in collaborative decision making, is organised in her day-to-day activities, and is considerate and emotionally robust. This principal is knowledgeable about teaching and learning and school improvement (Hopkins and Lagerweij, 1996), and has the ability to develop the skills, knowledge and confidence of others (Lambert, 2006). Furthermore, such a principal can read a situation and use appropriate leadership styles at different times and with different people (Leithwood et al., 2010).
Recent studies of principals who have succeeded in turning low-performing schools into high-performing schools are particularly informative. There is evidence that when these turn-around principals leave the school, the previous culture and practices are quickly reinstated and the school slides back to its earlier underperforming status (Leithwood et al., 2010). However, the negative effective of the principal’s departure is apparent even for the regular schools that are not underperforming. In Britain, for example, schools face principal turnover on average every three to four years in the normal course of events. Louis et al. (2010) found that in schools where some kind of shared leadership had been systematically built, the negative effect of the turnover of the principal is reduced. Indeed, newly assigned principals, who take cognisance of the prevailing school culture and build their improvement efforts within this culture, find they have fewer negative turnover issues to deal with (Louis et al., 2010). This is another reason for principals to invest time and energy in strengthening the school’s leadership capacity (Lambert, 2003, 2006).
Understanding the school’s culture is the key to understanding what is needed to improve student learning (Fullan, 2007; Hopkins and Lagerweij, 1996). The principal is the key player in making changes in the school culture. Indeed, the principal can be viewed as the mediator between the existing culture and the desired culture, working to shape the vision, values and behaviours of those involved (Sergiovanni, 2009). It is the principal who builds a culture of continual professional learning and develops a vision to influence student achievement as well as teachers’ well-being (Louis et al., 2010). That happens when learning within the school community is common, continuous and professional (Lambert, 2006). Improvement of student learning is likely to be enhanced when the culture is characterised by inquiry (Garrison et al., 2000; Rourke and Kanuka, 2008) in which teachers engage in critical challenging discussion about student performance data. In contrast, improvement in student learning is less likely to be enhanced when the culture is characterised by acceptance, where achievement and behaviour go unchallenged (MacNeil et al., 2009). Importantly for our study, there is evidence that it is in the smaller schools that the influence of the principal on school improvement is felt most keenly (Louis et al., 2010).
The link between the impact of principals and small schools is likely to be associated with the intimate relationship between the school and its community where the principal and the school are highly visible and depend on the support of members of the community (Wildy and Clarke 2008a). Such communities tend to be imbued with particular societal and cultural values, frequently unfamiliar to an urban perspective from which many principals have emanated. Place also refers to the more explicit aspects of community such as demography, geography, resources, mobility, social structures and the ways that these interact with beliefs and values. As Lefebvre observes, spaces are actuated and defined by the particular actions taken in them; these actions transform space into Place (Lefebvre, 1991). Principals who understand and respond to the complexities of their school context have an understanding of Place (Wildy and Clarke, 2011).
In this brief review of literature, we have focused on the pivotal role of the principal in building leadership capacity to create and sustain a culture of improvement in student learning. We have argued that the notion of the professional learning organisation, and in particular the professional learning community, has characteristics that are attuned to the purpose of improving students’ learning outcomes through the development of a culture of inquiry. We have drawn attention to the skills, knowledge and understanding possessed by such successful principals and the central role of culture building. Finally, we highlight the possibility that the small school, such as those that are the focus of our research reported in this paper, are particularly sensitive to the leadership capability of the principal who in turn is responsive to aspects of Place.
Methods
The study sought to address the question: how do principals of small rural schools in Iceland and Australia build the leadership capacity of their staff? In particular, what aspects of schools’ culture do the principals intentionally foster to develop the leadership skills, confidence and experience of staff members? We sought principals’ viewpoints. Hence, an interpretive phenomenological approach was adopted (Clarke and Wildy, 2010) using the case study of the principal in an isolated small school. Since the study spanned two contexts, a comparative design was used. The cross-context design was managed through online meetings between researchers, to conceptualise the study, plan its stages, analyse the data and generate key themes. Planning took place between October 2011 and March 2012.
Purpose sampling was used to maximise variation between the cases while controlling type of school, student and staff numbers, students’ ages and principal gender and experience. Two schools were chosen, one in Western Australia, one in northern Iceland. Data were collected during a two-day visit during May 2012 (Western Australia) and April (Iceland). The main source of data was the interview: two formal interviews (45 minutes) and three to five informal interviews (up to 30 minutes) with the principals, as well as informal interviews (up to 15 minutes each) with staff present at the time of the visit. Data were also collected by observing some of the routines of school days (lesson transitions, lunch time, end of day) and by reviewing school documents (websites, noticeboards, promotional material). These latter source of data provided stimuli for questions and discussion during interviews. Our interviews were semi-structured and responsive as we sought to identify the normal, everyday routines of the school. Rather than asking leading questions about how the principal works to improve student learning, we chose an inductive approach, using the principal’s lens to view the practices of the school. Data were represented as short narrative accounts (Connelly and Clandinin, 1990) to illustrate key aspects of the phenomena from the principal’s perspective and to provide a rich explanatory description of the principals’ work to develop staff understanding and skill as leaders. These narrative accounts were drafted by the researchers following the site visits and analysis of data, reviewed by the research team in audio conferences, redrafted and reviewed by email, and then submitted to the principals for feedback that was then analysed by the researchers in audio conferences. This iterative drafting and shaping of narratives was an analytic process that was replicated to generate key themes.
The study was conducted in Iceland and in Australia. Each of the research team has a unique and deep connection to the research. One researcher lives in northern Iceland, having taught in remote schools and been a principal of one, and is currently a faculty member of Akureyri University. A co-researcher taught for 20 years in northern Iceland and, at the time of the study, taught at The University of Western Australia. The third lived in rural Western Australia and attended a very small local school, and has researched leadership of small schools for 20 years. The sample schools for this study are located in contexts that are familiar to the experiences of the researchers.
Narrative accounts
We present the case studies of each school through three short narrative accounts. The first school is located in the wheatbelt of Western Australia, three hours’ drive from the capital city. In the first of the accounts the principal describes the culture of this richly resourced and well-supported school.
We are lucky
By all accounts our school is doing well. We have a strong supportive culture; the school is well resourced; and the community supports all that we do. I am lucky to be its principal.
Our students are well behaved. At inter-school events they stand out. Although we have a behaviour management plan displayed in each classroom, we rarely refer to the policy. Students might use bad language with their dad on the farm but they do not use bad language at school. Among our students it is ‘cool to be good’. New students soon feel the influence of our students.
We are richly resourced. Our parents’ association asks for our wish list. They raise funds by catering for functions in the Shire. Recently, two neighbouring schools closed. We inherited many resources: books and equipment; a library which we use as an extra classroom; and three highly regarded, experienced teachers. We even inherited a former principal who has taken on leadership roles in our school, such as an extension program for our top achieving primary students and ICTs for our teachers.
The community is proud of the school even though in recent times our secondary school numbers have dwindled. Three years ago District High Schools like ours were rumoured to be closing with a plan for secondary students to go to regional centres offering full programs. Our parents were horrified at the idea that the school would become a primary school and their older children would go to boarding schools in regional centres or the city. They pressed me to apply for Independent Public School status. I was in my first year as principal and not ready to tackle the consultation and application. They waited and in the following year we applied and became an Independent Public School. Now we can appoint the staff we need rather than having to accept whomever the Department sends. This year our secondary school numbers are precarious: the total is 28. If we drop below 25, then we are ineligible to run the secondary program.
With teachers matched to the needs of our school, resources continually updated and increased both in quantity and quality, and high achieving, well-behaved students, I am the luckiest of principals. I don’t want to do anything else.
The second Australian narrative focuses on staff: the issues of recruitment and cohesion among members. The principal describes her own pathway to the position.
One team
The school and the community are one team. We work together; we play together; and we are often related. Many teachers are long standing members of the community, married into founding farming families who came from England, Ireland or Scotland.
Schools bring new blood for rural communities. Since our school offers a K-to-10 program, students leave for Years 11 and 12. In the past, boys left after Year 10 to work on family farms. Now, before returning to the farm, they complete secondary schooling at a regional centre or in the city. Girls have different plans: whatever they have in mind doesn’t include returning to the community. They have had enough peace and quiet, wide horizons, dust and magpies. Now that the banks and many shops have closed, new blood comes mostly from the teachers and the backpacking hotel barmaids. However, most teachers these days are married to farmers so we rarely need newly graduated teachers.
My parents came to work in the Shire when I was 11, so I went to school here. Later I returned to teach when my father became ill. My husband and I bought a house and our children attended this school but they are building careers elsewhere. There are no career prospects for young people here. Four years ago I was appointed principal. I had been deputy principal and was twice acting principal. I watched a number of others in the role of principal. I thought, “I can do that job”. I learned a great deal from one principal: we met regularly and he shared many tasks, even a tough case of unsatisfactory staff performance. I continue to teach, rare for a principal of a District High School, but it helps me connect with staff and students.
Every teacher plays sport and coaches teams. Our students play sport after school. I coach swimming, netball and basketball. After our principals’ network meeting at a neighbouring town this afternoon, I returned to coach two netball teams. Then I joined coaches and adult team members for drinks and darts at the local hotel. Here we meet visitors too as it is the only place that provides accommodation, meals and drinks. People fill different positions, even multiple roles in school and community, but we all play for the same team.
In the third Australian narrative, we learn about the principal’s approach to building staff capacity.
Talented staff
Our teachers are talented. Highly qualified and experienced teachers of Mathematics, Science, and Design and Technology are hard to find anywhere these days, least of all in a small rural school. We have all three! Teachers interact with colleagues in private schools in the city to find out what senior secondary students are expected to achieve. Primary teachers swap lessons, for example, in Science, so that students get the best teaching we can offer. We guarantee parents that when students leave to finish their schooling elsewhere, they are as well prepared as anyone. At Year 9, few students are below the average in national tests in Numeracy.
I talk up our staff at network meetings. One teacher runs professional learning for networks of K-3 teachers from surrounding schools. I will nominate another teacher for a train-the-trainer program for Literacy professional learning. Another two teachers are training for curriculum leadership in the new Australian Curriculum.
I visit classrooms often. How else would I know what is going on in the school? I check whether teachers are following the Literacy and Numeracy blocks. I observe their strategies in implementing Guided Reading and I learn how to implement this program. I notice what they are doing well and ask them to share with their colleagues at our weekly professional development meeting.
Performance management is carried out regularly. We are introducing ICT so I ask teachers to account for ICT use in their lessons as part of their review. Sometimes, interactions occur on the run, in the corridor, when we have time. At the end of the year we summarise achievements for the year and set goals for the next year. However, because teachers have busy lives, I don’t ask expect them to write whole school strategic documents such as the Business Plan.
Our Business Plan states that teachers are encouraged to apply for the Level 3 Classroom Teacher status. However, teachers have not done so. I don’t blame them. I nag teachers to apply. However, they tell me they don’t have time to prepare the documentation. It is a pity because we certainly have the talent here.
Now we turn to the case of the small school in northern Iceland, depicted through three short narrative accounts. This school is located five hours drive from the capital city in a fertile farming area. The first narrative describes the school cultural and demographic context. The principal also tells of her pathway to the position.
Our long proud history
We have been a highly literate and cultured society for more than 1000 years. Music, poetry and literature are the fabric of our culture, with a strong tradition of learning in the home. Schools as we know them are a recent phenomenon in Iceland. School attendance was mandated in 1936 and dormitory schools were built in the country side. However, as late as the 1960s, some children of farming families stayed at home for part of the year to help their parents. Our secondary students’ parents would have experienced such schooling. Since our school began in 1970, the community has been proud of it and willing to contribute to school life.
Our community is changing. In the past, families had four or five children. The youngest children of these older families are now graduating from the school. As they move away for further education, they don’t return because there are few work opportunities. Now younger couples have fewer children and they, too, are finding work elsewhere. Although for many years the school had 120 students, numbers have declined to 40 students today. People are talking about using the kindergarten buildings for senior citizens.
Despite declining enrolments, our standards are high. Our students do well in national exams compared with the whole country. They are well mannered, socially confident, independent and cooperative. We have a strong music education tradition. Almost every student learns to play an instrument and to play in an ensemble. Older students teach the younger ones. All students participate in traditional dramatic productions for the annual arts festival, planning, designing and sewing costumes, making the set, organising the music and performing.
I came to the school as a newly qualified teacher 15 years ago. Later I became deputy principal and, recently, principal. Most of our teachers have worked together for years. We know each other well. Even with falling enrolments, teachers are not made redundant. When teachers retire or move away, they are not replaced. We manage to keep staff by reducing their hours. Most of the staff work part-time. Although we carry the strong Icelandic traditions of music, story, poetry and drama, our future as a school is fragile. In spite of our vulnerability we are united in our belief in the significance of the school for the community.
The second Icelandic narrative presents some of the challenges faced by the principal in the face of declining enrolments and the prospects of school amalgamation, particularly in relation to staffing.
Into the unknown
Declining population is a common feature of the rural Icelandic landscape, putting pressure on small district councils to integrate. Education is a district council responsibility. When councils amalgamate, school amalgamations will follow. Talk about amalgamation is unsettling. People fear that as the councils expand their reach, they lose their soul.
However, amalgamation is not new to us. We used to be three separate schools: the kindergarten; the music school; and the Year 1 to 10 school – each with its own principal. Three years ago these schools were amalgamated and I am now the principal of all three with departmental heads of the kindergarten and music school who work with me. Last year I was told by the education committee of the new local council of a plan to integrate two of the three local schools. I am not in favour of the amalgamation, and I told them so, although I hide my views when I talk to my staff. My partner and I grew up in this area and we feel part of the local school traditions. I work as best I can towards the merger. But I ask challenging questions when I attend meetings with the council. They don’t seem to be thinking carefully about the issues such as the management and organisational structure of the combined schools which are situated 20 km apart across the district.
All this talk about amalgamation impacts on the ethos of the school, taking its toll on the cultural life, trust and professional work in the school. It is hard for me and the teachers to focus on school development when I am not sure if the school will be operating next year. Some of our strong teachers are moving elsewhere. Those who remain are tied to the country, either having partners who are farmers, or lacking the confidence to seek work further afield. One outstanding teacher was on a fractional appointment for 10 years. She lives on a farm in the country and has a large family. She wants a full-time appointment to make ends meet. At the start of each year I wonder if she will be back. Those who can leave, do – for the sake of security. Others are left behind wondering, like me, about the future.
In the third narrative from Iceland, the principal describes her work with teachers and the challenges she faces.
Learning to lead, on the job
I had no leadership preparation when I took up my job as principal. Principals are on their own: no active network for principals; no performance review; little clerical support; I simply have to get on with the job. Whenever I feel overwhelmed I go for a walk to clear my mind.
I accepted the position of principal because I was asked. I had never thought of myself as a principal. I have a strong professional vision for teaching and for a good school. However, I feel I need more theoretical knowledge to know how I could make this happen as a principal.
When I became principal, no one took my place as deputy principal. We shared those responsibilities amongst teachers – one agreed to deputise for me when I was away; another took on purchasing and requisitions; a third introduced a new school behaviour management policy; another took over the school website; and another took responsibility for the school review. Teachers liked these responsibilities.
Traditionally principals do not get involved with teachers’ work in the classroom. Professional leadership comes from the teachers themselves, partly because the principal has no greater professional competence than the teachers and partly because we have generally been lucky to have highly capable teachers. I would never visit a classroom to observe or give feedback. I am a good listener and teachers know they are welcome to come to me, but they are more than capable of sorting out problems for themselves. I ask questions and get staff to look at different perspectives and possible solutions. Stability is important. However, I encourage teachers who have new ideas to develop them and to have a go. I use staff meetings to make decisions about teaching and cultural events. Sometimes I invite students and parents to guide our school planning.
Generally the teachers are active and manage new responsibility well although a few are hard to manage. One teacher is particularly difficult to deal with. This teacher is often in conflict with teenage students. My colleagues and I have tried to help the teacher and so have previous principals, but there’s no progress. The issues have gone all the way to the local education board, but the teacher is still here. We are not proud of the way this has been managed. Fortunately this teacher retires soon.
These three narratives drawn from data collected in the Icelandic school complete the suite of accounts that comprise the two case studies. In the following section of the paper, we examine these in relation to our research question: how do principals of small rural schools in Iceland and Australia build the leadership capacity of their staff?
Discussion
Our study sought evidence of strategies to build leadership capacity in each of the schools. In particular, we aimed to identify those aspects of culture – beliefs, values, aspirations and actions on the part of the principal – that were designed to enlist teachers and community members to work together to drive student learning improvement. For example, we wondered about the extent to which leadership was shared among others on the staff and whether the principal was explicit in her aim of sharing authority. We wondered if the principal had a vision for the school and the extent to which this was explicit and shared. Was the culture one that supported student learning? Were relationships among staff trusting and respectful so that conversations about teaching and learning provided robust, constructive engagement around student achievement? What role did the principal play in promoting such a culture? Was the teachers’ well-being part of the professional learning program for the staff? Was there evidence of the principal’s knowledge and understanding of her influence on shaping the culture? In sum, in our site visits and analysis of interview data, observations and documents, we sought evidence of the characteristics of professional learning communities that would be sustained in the event of the principal’s departure, and that focused explicitly on the improvement of student learning.
Considering the Australian case study, we found a school that appears to be working well: the principal has a positive view of the students’ achievement and behaviour, the support from the community, and the level of resourcing. Indeed the school has more than it needs, with extra experienced staff and resources arriving when nearby schools are closed. The only problem is that enrolments are declining, a consequence of the general rural contraction in the country. The principal took on her role more by accident than design and continues to participate in the rich sporting culture of the community. This principal also continues to teach. The teachers are talented and matched to the students’ and curricular needs of the school. The principal visits classrooms to find out what is going on in the school and to learn what is being taught. From the principal’s point of view, all is well and she is the ‘luckiest of principals’.
Like the Australian school, the Icelandic school is located in a declining rural community and faces the prospect of amalgamation with a nearby school. Similarly, this principal came to the job by chance, with no aspiration or preparation. The Icelandic school is a relatively recent phenomenon on the educational landscape, but enjoys the benefits from the support of a strong community, whose traditions of literature, poetry and music reach back more than 1000 years. Both schools are proud of their well-behaved and high-achieving students, and the positive role models that older students provide for younger students. The staff of each school is stable; teachers seem capable of sorting out their own issues; and each principal has a long history in the school prior to taking on the leadership role. Both principals are deeply connected to the communities and the ties that bind the teachers are strong, within the school and across the community.
Structural change is not new to either school. The Australian school has been the fortunate recipient of students and resources as half-a-dozen neighbouring schools have closed over the past decades and the Icelandic school, itself once three schools (Kindergarten, Music School and Year 1–10 school), is now combined as one school. Adjustments are made to accommodate changes. For example, in the Australian schools new programs are introduced, such as extension and ICT, because newly acquired teachers have the expertise. Talented teachers have opportunities to share their skills among networks of teachers. The principal is resilient, withstanding the changes and making the most of what remains. When the Icelandic school enrolments drop to 40 students, teachers’ hours are reduced. Teachers who are hard to manage linger until they retire. The Icelandic principal feels powerless in the face of the rapidly changing situation of the school that undermines trust among teachers and reduces their commitment to school improvement. This principal is wistful about her school’s future, whose shape she can hardly imagine.
To what extent can these schools be characterised as professional learning organisations (Harris, 2008; Harris and Lambert, 2003; Leithwood et al., 2008, 2010; Senge, 1990/2006)? Many of the qualities of professional learning communities are evident. The cultures of the two schools are characterised by trusting respectful relationships. The teachers and principals are part of the fabric of their respective communities, with long connections, even blood ties, into the families. For example, in the Australian case, parents raise funds for the school’s wish list; they respected the newly appointed principal’s request to wait one year before applying for the new Independent Public School (IPS) status for the school. The principal is free to visit classrooms to learn, not to judge. Similarly, the Icelandic principal does not question classroom practices, knowing it is not a tradition to do so. The staff, principal and community members are one team, both in the school and in the sporting or cultural arenas.
Both principals show evidence of sharing leadership, if only by convenience, as in the Australian case, or necessity, as in the Icelandic case. Teacher and parent participation in decisions is a tradition in the Icelandic setting and have been formally mandated in Australia in the past 25 years, providing an opportunity at each school to foster leadership capacity. Sharing leadership is a starting point for developing leadership capacity (Bolam et al., 2006; Hallinger and Heck, 2010; Roy and Hord, 2006).
The principals are sympathetic towards teachers’ responsibilities. Indeed the Australian principal is so respectful of her teachers’ time that she does not expect them to contribute to the writing of whole school documents, even though such experience might provide valuable inputs for applications for the highly prized Level 3 Classroom Teacher status. However, despite the trust and understanding evident in these two schools, trust and understanding are not enough to foster debate and inquiry about performance (Hargreaves, 2007; Harris and Lambert, 2003).
Both schools demonstrate a shared vision for high levels of student academic achievement, as well as cultural and sporting activities. The principals define their vision through the importance of the school for the community although it is not clear how existing visions match the schools’ rapidly changing environments (Hopkins and Lagerweij, 1996; Sergiovanni, 2009). These principals are dedicated to their schools for the long haul, even though it is not clear what the future holds for their schools or for the communities.
The schools have proud histories, built on old victories, and their principals display considerable personal skills and commitment, particularly in the deep understanding of Place. In the case of Iceland, the principal is committed to preserving the traditions of the community, particularly the value of independence; and she understands the changing demographics of that rural regional. Similarly, in the case of the Australian school, the principal has deep and strong roots in the community’s social and sporting fabric. Both work closely with their staff, making the most of the expertise that each brings and the challenging circumstances of declining enrolments.
If there was an explicit and intentional endeavour by the principals to build leadership capacity through professional learning communities, or some other process, then we expected that the principals, and teachers, would talk about this endeavour. However, the concept of the professional learning community (Bolam et al., 2006; Roy and Hord, 2006) did not feature in the principals’ or the teachers’ conversations with us. We did not hear discussions about using data from student assessment to inform decisions about teaching and learning. Nor did we hear about how the principals align resources around their vision for the school. Despite this, we learned that using data to inform teaching is so embedded in practice and the alignment of resources and vision is so taken for granted that neither was considered by principals to be worthy of mention. As neither principal has had professional preparation for the principalship, largely because such programs were not offered in their educational jurisdictions, it is not surprising that they do not engage in the current terminology around leadership and capacity development (Fullan, 2007; Leithwood et al., 2008; Sergiovanni, 2009) or professional learning communities.
To what extent do these schools exhibit characteristics of a culture of inquiry, rather than a culture of acceptance? Possibly like many other schools in each country, these schools are good solid schools, rolling smoothly along year after year, making the most of what happens, creating no problems, hardly noticed and rarely visited by their respective educational authority personnel. They are not low-performing schools, under-performing schools, or turn-around schools. They are fine models of good schools. Their principals accommodate the changes they face, accepting the conditions they find. These schools are characterised by a culture of acceptance, where expectations for performance and behaviour are known and shared and not explicitly questioned. But is this enough? Could they be great schools or even simply better schools? In what ways? At what cost? Are students being stretched, extended, stimulated to reach as high as they can? Is it enough to be better than average in national assessments? What are the consequences for individuals, families and society when we settle for ‘good’, rather than excellent? We wonder how these schools might become great schools if the principals were to develop a more explicit, articulated culture of inquiry (Wildy and Clarke, 2012).
Conclusions
We began our study of principals’ work in developing leadership capacity of their staff by using the notion of Place as a theoretical lens. We chose two small rural schools located at the antipodean extremes of the earth – Iceland and Australia. We found there were notable similarities in their contexts, despite different cultural backgrounds. The complexities of their contexts are richly understood by the principals. In other words, the two principals could be described as being contextually literate, having a rich appreciation of Place (Wildy and Clarke, 2012). So deeply connected are the principals that they are part of the culture of the school and its community, whose norms and values they take for granted.
The preparation and continuing professional support of school leaders are starting points for providing principals with the skill and understanding to promote a culture of inquiry rather than one of acceptance. Previous studies of the small school, particularly the fragile small school in harsh circumstances in remote locations (Wildy, 2004; Wildy and Clarke, 2008a, 2008b, 2009, 2011, 2012) point to a prevailing culture of acceptance in many of these schools. Surviving the challenges that confront the often novice principal seems to be linked to accommodating the norms and practices of the school and its surrounding community. However, the case study schools for this study are not remote nor are the conditions harsh. These are robust schools in strong supportive communities led by resilient, experienced principals and their cohesive focused teams of teachers.
The study provides comparison of two contexts that share features such as low population density, a history of small schools, declining rural demographic, increasing urbanisation, pressure to improve student learning outcomes, and increasing policy demands at local and national levels. From two case studies arise insights about principals’ attitudes and actions. The phenomena that are illustrated through narrative accounts serve as cultural reflections, bringing into focus aspects of practice that otherwise remain tacit. In this way the findings of the study may provide a source of reflection, discussion and learning for participants in principal preparation programs and ongoing principal professional development programs, beyond the small rural school.
Footnotes
Funding
This research received no specific grant from any funding agency in the public, commercial, or not-for-profit sectors.
